[Valjean hears D-ne's words, but before he can even think about replying, she's gone.
Without her there, time seems to stretch out. Every labored breath lasts a year. He swallows the thickness in his throat and opens his eyes. Despite it all, the room is still cast in the light from a single candlestick. As if from a great distance, he can see the other one. It rolled away as he fell, somehow clear of the blood spilled on the floor, where it's now quietly catching the light. Beyond it, there's the empty doorway.
He swallows again, and slowly hoists himself up onto one elbow.
Standing's impossible, but he can push himself across the floor. One hand presses against his chest, fingers splayed as if he can somehow keep all the blood inside. He hasn't got any real plan, only the vague idea that he might somehow find someone to help. It's probably too late. But he won't just lie here and wait to die.
He passes the candlestick, and reaches the door. The hallway looks impossibly long. They all know each others' habits well enough by now, and he knows he cannot expect anyone to come this way soon. Eliza will likely be the first, whenever she wakes. He regrets the thought of her finding him like this. His heart is pounding too quickly in his head, and his energy's flagging.
In the end, he only makes it a few more paces before he has to rest. Valjean understands, when he lets his head drop forward against his outstretched arm, that he likely won't raise it again. He would have liked to get out with the rest of them. He wanted to say goodbye to Cosette. But if this is how it is to be...
...then may God have mercy on them all.
The hallway grows dark. He could almost swear he hears distant singing. Then, nothing.
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Without her there, time seems to stretch out. Every labored breath lasts a year. He swallows the thickness in his throat and opens his eyes. Despite it all, the room is still cast in the light from a single candlestick. As if from a great distance, he can see the other one. It rolled away as he fell, somehow clear of the blood spilled on the floor, where it's now quietly catching the light. Beyond it, there's the empty doorway.
He swallows again, and slowly hoists himself up onto one elbow.
Standing's impossible, but he can push himself across the floor. One hand presses against his chest, fingers splayed as if he can somehow keep all the blood inside. He hasn't got any real plan, only the vague idea that he might somehow find someone to help. It's probably too late. But he won't just lie here and wait to die.
He passes the candlestick, and reaches the door. The hallway looks impossibly long. They all know each others' habits well enough by now, and he knows he cannot expect anyone to come this way soon. Eliza will likely be the first, whenever she wakes. He regrets the thought of her finding him like this. His heart is pounding too quickly in his head, and his energy's flagging.
In the end, he only makes it a few more paces before he has to rest. Valjean understands, when he lets his head drop forward against his outstretched arm, that he likely won't raise it again. He would have liked to get out with the rest of them. He wanted to say goodbye to Cosette. But if this is how it is to be...
...then may God have mercy on them all.
The hallway grows dark. He could almost swear he hears distant singing. Then, nothing.
Jean Valjean is dead.]